


The Risk Series 9:  The Engagement Risk

by KS_POI_Pretender_Fan



Series: The Risk Series [9]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan/pseuds/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to protect the new number, John asks Zoe to marry him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The POI and the Perp

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So, this fic is going to be a tad (okay a lot) different than my other ones in the risk series. To tell you all the truth, this one kicked my arse from January until early March. I liked it, then I hated it, then I liked it again. I just wasn't sure how it was going to be liked (or disliked). Anywhoo, this fic was my attempt (sorry or otherwise) at trying to write a Janet Evanovich inspired fic. Zoe and John are the same as always, except for the added touch Zoe's Grandmamma Ruby - who was sort of patterned after Grandma Mazur in the Stephanie Plum novels. Except Grandmamma Ruby was born and raised in the south. I had no clue what Southern culture was really like and I would have to thank my friend Heather who schooled me in the ways of the Southern lady.
> 
> AN2: I already said that I was stepping way out of my comfort zone right? Writing humor is very daunting especially when you're talking about murder. So hopefully, I didn't offend anyone by my portrayal of the situation.
> 
> AN3: Also, if you can't already tell by my pen name, I am a huge Pretender fan. So I thought I would throw in some shout outs to the show. Blue Cove, Delaware is a completely made up location. You may get to meet some of the characters from that show, just for grins. See if you can spot them.
> 
> AN: So I totally messed up when I posted this earlier today, I posted the epilogue instead of the prologue. Oops. Here's the real beginning.
> 
> Either way, let me know if you loved it, hated it or just meh. And especially if it's "KS, don't try this again . . . "

* * *

**Prologue: The POI and the Perp**

She made a mad dash around her apartment, packing things up and vacuuming while she did several loads of laundry. As excited as she was to be moving on to a new job in a couple of weeks, she was more excited with what she had planned for the rest of day. The fact that it was storming outside didn't dampen her spirits. Though it was later than she had hoped, by late afternoon she had everything in order and was checking her camera bag to make sure she had everything she needed. In an instant, she was ready to hit the streets.

There was nothing Debbie Hicks loved more than Saturdays at the park. The playground was always full of children, runners pounded the trails, and there was always someone throwing a Frisbee or a ball for their dog. She could spend hours there without running out of subjects for her art.

That day however there were no children, very few runners and no one throwing Frisbees or balls for their dog. She imagined the thunderstorm kept people at home. Shrugging her shoulders, she set her bag down on the ground and pulled out her Nikon and started scouting the area for possible scenery shots.

Because it was late afternoon, the park was deserted, the sky was dark and the street lights had just come on. Though rain still dripped from the trees, it was the soft mist rising from the ground that drew the eye. The lighting was perfect for what she wanted. Facing a copse of trees, she took some test shots. Just as she was about the snap the shutter on her perfect scene, a runner came out of the trees and made his way hastily out of the park. Too late, he ruined her shot as the shutter snapped.

Smiling and shaking her head she continued to take more shots hoping they would come out like she hoped so that she could put it up on her photography blog.

* * *

_What the hell? This had to be some mistake,_ he thought to himself. But there was no denying what was right in front of his face. On some bloggers site, was a photo taken that day two weeks ago. The park and location was unmistakable and the blogger even mentioned when she took that picture and what day. Hell, anyone could see the time of day it was taken. The streetlamps were on and there was an eerie mist rising from the ground. The photographer unknowingly captured the lone runner who came out of the copse of trees. That image was eternally immortalized on film and for anyone to see.

Although the play of shadows partially concealed his face, it was apparent to Will Jones that he was that man on the picture. It would be easy for anyone who knew what they were doing to play with the picture and make a clearer image. Heck, he had the software that could easily do that on his laptop.

Will couldn't keep the panic from his veins. He had to remain calm if he wanted to fix the situation. Normally, it was easy for Will to pull off calm. He was a loan officer for a bank and a darn good one. He worked well under pressure. That is until two weeks ago.

For the past two weeks, he had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, waiting for word that someone had linked him to the body in the park. There was nothing until he did this harmless search on Google with the park's name, hoping he would see something on the news about a dead hooker.

He told himself not to revisit those stark, violent images that played in his head, haunting him for the past two weeks. He started fidgeting as he reached into his pockets for his stash of cocaine. Letting himself give into the temptation, he cut a line and sniffed it. It would give him back his edge.

How could this have happened? There was no one around when he took that hooker into the secluded section of the park. Things had gotten out of hand with their negotiations when she wanted more than he could afford. Before he knew it, the hooker was on the ground not breathing, the imprints of his hands on her throat.

He had to take care of this, he had to before anyone caught on.

* * *

 

 


	2. Zoe Morgan, will you marry me again?

* * *

**Zoe Morgan, will you marry me again?**

"Zoe Morgan, will you be my wife," John asked for the second time since she had met him. This time, he proposed with a different ring and without the wedding band. His delivery of the proposal varied very little. He still had that upward quirk of his lip that indicated it wasn't a real proposal, but he did get on bended knee this time. What could she say? He was actually showing his creativity.

Giving him an exaggerated sigh, she asked. "You need me to be your wife again?"

"My fiancée," he said with a smirk as if he couldn't keep himself from laughing. He pulled his phone out and put it on speaker.

"Miss Morgan, thank you for agreeing to help us, once again," Harold's voice cheerily said.

"Where are we headed this time? Not to the suburbs again? I'm not sure I could bear another backyard barbecue," Zoe commented as she tried the ring on for size.

"You're actually going further away this time," Harold answered, still sounding a little too cheerful than the situation warranted. Zoe listened, crossing her arms across her chest. She knew when she was being played and she didn't like it one bit.

"Well, our target's name is Debra Hicks. She's the wedding coordinator at the Huntington House; a Bed and Breakfast that specializes in romantic weddings. She just moved from New York a week ago to take on this new job," Finch paused giving them time to absorb the details of the new target. He went on to describe that their cover will be as a newly engaged couple looking at possible wedding venues. "I was able to book you a reservation in one of their suites. The Huntington House claims that all of their rooms are romantic and in fact was rated among the 15 most romantic B&Bs in the country by one of our leading industry publications. You'll have a view of the Atlantic Ocean right outside your door. . . "

"Harold, I think we get the picture. How far is it from the city?"

"I'd say it's about a three hour drive to Blue Cove, Delaware, do you agree Mr. Reese?"

* * *

"I'm not sulking," she said staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly at her chest.

John frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd said that since their road trip began some two hours earlier. "You need to relax," he said.

Zoe had been unusually uptight, more so than usual, and tight lipped when she found out that they were heading to Delaware. She tried to convince herself that Blue Cove was a relatively big town and that if they stayed close to the B&B they wouldn't necessarily run into her, would they?

"I'll relax when I'm dead. I can't believe we are doing this. I must be out of my mind." She turned her head to face him and shot him a withering glare, as she nervously swung her leg to and fro.

Absently noticing her bare toes for the first time, he realized that at some point during the drive, she must have kicked off her shoes for comfort. John's gaze zeroed in on Zoe's naked legs as he felt a tugging somewhere due south and his mouth went dry.

"John! Eyes on the road," Zoe reprimanded.

With a silent curse, John's eyes immediately went to the road and righted the car.

Zoe was still in disbelief. This had to be the worst idea ever. Seriously, what was she thinking agreeing to this? He made all the arrangements he said. They didn't have to worry about a thing except to get themselves to the location that was three hours away, by the ocean, with wonderful accommodations. She started unconsciously playing with the doorknob that was masquerading as an engagement ring.

Her participation in this road trip was voluntary until she found out that their accommodations were not going to be as wonderful as she had been led to believe. An hour into their "trip", Harold had received a call from a very apologetic Huntington House employee. It seems as though they were double booked and that the inn was currently full.

"The good news is there is a lovely home next door to the inn that they sometimes use for over bookings. And, because Miss Hicks only moved last week, she is temporarily staying there as well. I spoke to the owner of the home; a lovely woman by the name of Ruby Duchamp, who is a young ninety and quite entertaining. She has this lovely southern accent that makes me think of mint juleps."

Zoe's pulse quickened. "Did you say Ruby Duchamp?"

"Why yes, Miss Morgan. Do you know her?"

"John, turn this damn car around," Zoe ordered.

"We're almost there . . . "

"I don't give a rat's ass, turn this car around and take me back to New York."

They could hear the tapping of the keyboard on the other end of the line. "Miss Morgan I don't see why . . . oh. . . oh dear."

"I take it you see my concern Harold?" Zoe asked caustically.

"Why yes, but she doesn't have to be involved . . ."

"Harold, you don't know that woman like I do . . . she will do nothing but hinder this operation of yours." Zoe fought hard to keep the panic out of her voice, but appeared to be failing miserably.

"Miss Morgan, surely you're exaggerating. . . "

"Harold, have you ever known me to exaggerate?" Zoe demanded rhetorically.

"I'm sorry Miss Morgan, but it's really important that we get there tonight. You realize how quickly things can happen in these situations."

With a huff, Zoe acquiesced. "I swear to God, after this little project, I don't want to hear from either one for a long time. Do you hear me?"

John cast a cautious glance at his passenger. It came as a surprise to realize that Zoe was nervous. Her forehead was creased with tension, her eyes were hooded, her mouth crooked as she nibbled on the inside corner of her lower lip, and he couldn't help but notice the constant fidgety movements of the hand that was twisting the large diamond ring around her left ring finger.

"It's going to be fine, Zoe, you'll see," he encouraged softly.

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, not knowing how to express the feelings that coursed through her at the moment. Zoe felt wary and downright scared.

* * *

 


	3. Meeting the Family

* * *

**Meeting the Family**

John turned into the driveway and followed the smooth blacktop to a massive house riddled with columns and porticos.

"Good Lord, she went ahead and did it," Zoe muttered, as she caught sight of the woman standing on the porch of the home; she was smiling and waving enthusiastically. She stared at the house and thought that Ruby had gone bonkers.

Zoe and John stared at the Antebellum style home, painted white with black shutters, double front doors with delicate glass panels to the side and a glass arch above. Two round columns bracketed the front doors of the impressively large home. At her age, what would she want with this monstrosity?

"Is it me or does that look like . . . " John wasn't sure he could describe what the house looked like.

". . . a scaled down version of Tara from Gone with the Wind?" Zoe finished John's sentence for him.

"I guess?"

"Indeed it is. The crazy old bat really did it."

"Zoe Heloise Morgan . . ." the screech came from the porch. They watched in fascination as the clearly still spry nonagenarian made her way towards Zoe who looked up in utter mortification. ". . . get your skinny fanny over here and give me a hug!"

John wasn't sure whether he needed to step in front of Zoe to protect or to take cover himself. Zoe's panic was palpable yet she looked as if she was rooted to the spot.

The woman finally reached Zoe and gave her a strong bear hug. The deceptively frail arms and small stature, for she was a full head shorter than Zoe, did not stop the woman from picking Zoe up and swatting her on the bottom.

"H-hello, Grandmamma," Zoe finally said as she was settled back on the ground.

* * *

From his vantage point, there was nothing but the breathtaking view of the Atlantic, waves lapping lazily along the sandy beach. The breeze ruffled his short, dark hair. His stormy blue eyes were often eloquent in expressing his true feelings.

His life thus far had been tumultuous, living a good portion of it alone. Losing the one person in his life that had connected him to the world, he was set adrift. His solitude had been his darkness; it had set him apart from life, from love, from everyone. Loneliness had caused him to spin out of control. He became lost, drifting from place to place with no purpose.

Eventually, he was found, given a second chance and offered a purpose. Over time, he had realized that he had a friend; someone to listen to, care for, and do anything for.

His role as protector meant that he knew his charge every which way; he watched, he observed, was familiar with his charge inside and out. His stance was sure, self confidence emanating from his great height and powerful, well-formed, and smoothly muscled body.

Ears attuned to his environment, the crunch of tires on the ground captured his attention. His instincts took over as he left to investigate.

And then he saw her.

* * *

Zoe didn't know what hit her. One minute her Grandmamma was smacking her butt, and the next she was pinned to the side of the car. A black-blue fur covered, square head the size of a cinder block was an inch from her face giving the wettest of all greetings with its tongue.

"Oh, you met the puppy!" Grandmamma said.

"Puppy? Grandmamma, this isn't a puppy, this is a horse." Zoe said as she felt drool mar her décolleté.

He took offense at what she called him. He wasn't a horse. He was a tall, muscular Great Dane; one with a dignified, elegant and regal appearance.

He woofed **,** _My name is Buster; of Great Dane origin from Germany and some think even as far back as Ancient Greece and Rome. My ancestors were powerful mastiff-type canines, trained and bred to hunt the savage European wild boar. Our training and breeding required us to be powerful, intelligent, tenacious and fearless dogs, and our personality and breed characteristics suited us perfectly to this task. I am the "Apollo of dogs." I am a suitable representative of my distinguished breed; I have height, weight, courage, nobility, speed and endurance as well._

_But alas, we are rarely used as boarhounds today, but instead have transitioned to beloved and affectionate companions and protectors. As such, I have a balance of temperament and physical traits. This physical and mental combination is the characteristic which gives us Great Danes the majesty possessed by no other breed."_

"Zoe Heloise," Grandmamma Ruby gasped, "that is Buster." Apparently, Buster's owner passed away two months ago. No one realized the existence of Buster, a thirty-three inch tall, 120 pound pet until Grandmamma found him rooting around in the garbage three weeks ago. "Like all Great Danes, he's very affectionate and has a sweet disposition. Buster is gentle, patient, calm and loyal, making him an ideal part of my family anyway. Since I don't have anyone really close by . . ." Grandmamma made a sad face and batted her eyelashes.

Zoe couldn't deny that Buster was a grand looking animal and she could see why her Grandmamma was so taken with him. She crouched down and took note of his beautiful blue-black coat. He had soulful blue eyes with a face that had a thoughtful, intelligent expression that added to his impressive stature. He reminded her of the man standing right by her. Giving him a smile, she rubbed his head and ran her hand down his flank.

Her smile just about knocked him for a loop. It was a wide, generous smile that tipped up at the corners of her mouth and warmed him. Judging by her reaction to her to cantankerous Grandmamma Ruby, she clearly had a soft spot for dogs and old people. He thought that was nice.  _I think I'm in love_ , Buster thought.  _She's mine!_

Buster noticed that the man was tall and wearing all black. Black shoes, black pants, black suit jacket, white shirt. He had an unreadable expression on his face, but then he walked over and him and let Buster smell his hand and gave him a friendly, lingering ear rub.  _Oh yeah, we'll get along just fine,_  Buster woofed and trailed behind the humans as they made their way inside the home.

Buster knew for a fact that Grandmamma Ruby, his main charge to protect, had been slaving away in the kitchen since she had heard that her beloved grandbaby was coming to visit with her fiancé.

* * *

Miss Ruby Eliza Duchamp was a Southern woman born and raised. It was only when her husband Reginald was moved to the East Coast many, many, many years ago to expand the family business that she even ventured north of the Mason-Dixon line. She had never lost sight of her Southern upbringing.

Southern women knew bad manners when they saw them. They should never, ever drink out of a can. Thank you notes are always to be sent, without fail. After February, you better not be wearing velvet, and by golly do not, ever, ever, wear white shoes before Easter and after Labor Day; it was simply not done.

Questions were always answered with either a "Yes, ma'am" or a "Yes, sir" and God forbid you answer with an "Uh-huh" or a "Nuh-uh." Sentences were always started with a "Honey," a "Sugah," or a "Darlin'."

Miss Ruby had a way with expressions as did all Southern women. One knew there was an open invitation to visit when Miss Ruby said; "Y'all come back!" Empathy was shown with a; "Well, bless your heart."

The one thing Miss Ruby cherished the most in her ninety years is her one and only grandbaby. Though Zoe Morgan was born and raised in New York and as far as anyone knew, had never gone south of the Mason-Dixon line; she had spent many a summer with her Grandmamma Ruby wherever she was living at the time.

When her Reginald passed some twenty years ago, Ruby became a world traveler at age seventy. She settled in Delaware ten years ago in a retirement village to be close but not too close to Zoe.

Oh Miss Ruby knew she drove her grandbaby insane, Southern women admit to having a touch of crazy in them. And though most would rather hide that craziness, Miss Ruby always flaunted it and put it on display. And gosh darn it, she was ninety years old. There came a point in her life when she decided she would say whatever she damn well pleased and act how she pleased within the confines of her Southern upbringing of course.

As she observed her grandbaby, she couldn't help but smile with joy. She was here and with a handsome young man to boot.

* * *

"And here she was naked as the day she was born, running around chanting; see my butt, see my butt, see the freckle on my butt?" Grandmamma Ruby cackled with all glee a ninety year old could muster. Over lunch, she had been entertaining John, for the most part, and Zoe, not so much, with stories from Zoe's childhood. Shaking her head, Ruby added, "she was such a little cheese ball."

"Quite the little exhibitionist wasn't she?" John winked conspiratorially at Zoe's Grandmamma.

"You got it, Darlin'!" Grandmamma Ruby slammed her hand on the table and gave John a fist bump.

"Oh, God," Zoe groaned as she wanted to so desperately to slide off her chair into oblivion.  _And she's just getting started_ , Zoe thought. She caught John giving her a crooked smile and kicked him under the table.

 _Cheese ball?_ He mouthed, which earned him another kick.

"I'm so glad you were able to come, peanut. I thought I would meet my maker before I'd see you again. It's been too long." Grandmamma Ruby sent Zoe a scolding look. And in an instant, Zoe felt as if she were ten years old again.

"Well, I'll make sure little peanut here gets to visit you more often, Miss Ruby," John delighted in saying as Zoe shot him a withering glare as she kicked him yet again under the table. He'd received quite a bit of those glares and kicks today.

Struggling to hide his amusement, John took a sip of his coffee.

"John?"

"Yes, Miss Ruby?"

"Sugah, have you seen naked pictures of our Zoe here?" She asked in a deceptively innocent voice.

"Grandmamma!" Zoe gasped, pure unadulterated mortification coursed through her.

For the first time in his life, John realized that hot coffee inhaled through the nasal cavity, hurt like a son-of-bitch.

As he continued to cough and choke on his measly sip of coffee, Miss Ruby added. "Ah, Zoe, don't get your panties in a bunch, I was talking about when you were a baby."

"Grandmamma," Zoe warned through gritted teeth.

"Zoe, honey, I may be ninety years old but I'm not ignorant. You've been around the block several times; I figured he's already seen you in all your naked glory." Grandmamma Ruby sure was a pistol.

Zoe threw her hands up knowing there was nothing she could do. John was still half choking and half laughing.

"Besides, at least now, John doesn't look like a constipated baboon anymore." Grandmamma Ruby said referring the John's ever present stern expression when she first met him. She had leaned into Zoe when she first shook his hand and in a staged whisper she had asked if he always looked like said blocked up primate.

 


	4. Wedding Plans and a Break In

* * *

**Wedding Plans and a Break-in**

He sighed inwardly. She was so incredibly beautiful, sitting there with her feet crossed and her long brown hair bathed in sunlight; very lovely. He reconsidered the word. Lovely didn't feel exactly right. Alluring was better. There was a maturity to her, an abundance of persona. She didn't whine or make excuses. She went about her business in a matter of fact manner and determination. There was a depth to Zoe as with no other he had seen or met.

In the beginning, he had felt the pull of her brown eyes and soft curvature, and instantly falling in love with her. He felt at first as if it were a joke on him, but this morning he had woken up and realized that he was enamored with her. Underneath all the caustic phrases, she was caring towards her grandmother, bright, and honest to a fault. And there definitely was a lot of enthusiasm sparkling below the facade. He supposed that she hadn't completely tapped into it yet. There was a sweet element to her kisses, it was as if she were always pleasingly amazed by the chemistry the existed between them. He understood that amazement. He felt it as well.

"John, it's time to go meet with Debbie," Zoe said, jumping to her feet and slipping on her shoes.

"Grandmamma, are you ready to go?" She called out as she rushed past his perch by the kitchen door, paused, crouched down and gave his head a rub and a kiss. "See you later Buster, you be a good boy when we're gone?" Stood back up and walked out the door. In her wake, John and Miss Ruby followed.

Buster sighed again, ran to the front windows and watched them drive away.  _Alone at last_ , he thought. He bounded upstairs to Zoe and John's bedroom and found her suitcase. Rooting around, he found the memento he was looking for and raced back downstairs, out the doggie door to the back yard. He dug a hiding spot for it and buried it. It would remind him of his love when she was gone.

* * *

Moving across the lobby and down a long, carpeted hallway, Debbie led them to the main ballroom where the majority of their large-scale events were held. It was currently empty, but for the thick carpeting, a centrally located faux wooden dance floor, and an immovable stage along the far wall. Zoe cringed, if this whole thing was for real, she would shoot herself with John's gun. This was the tackiest, ugliest, ballroom she had ever seen.

The only saving grace was the view from the row of French doors that ran the entire length of the room opening onto a wide verandah that overlooked the ocean. Several yards away, at the end of a grassy knoll was a large white gazebo where many a wedding ceremony had taken place.

"So this is our largest, most booked, and most coveted area for events," she told them, letting them enter ahead of her. "People enjoy the view and the breeze coming in off the ocean, and both the gazebo and the verandah as a background for pictures."

"This . . . is . . . lovely," Zoe said pretending to wander around and take in the details of the room.

Grandmamma Ruby was not one to mince words though. "No it's not. I can see your face from over here, and it's saying that this room is uglier than a monkey's armpit."

Shooting Grandmamma Ruby a withering glare, she said to Debbie in a conciliatory tone, "It's perfect for weddings."

The younger woman just shook her head, "Honestly, Grandmamma Ruby is right. It is uglier than a rodent's behind. Personally, I think the view is what books this room . . . "

"The white gazebo is rather picturesque. . ." John agreed tongue in cheek, which earned him a contemptuous glower from Zoe.

"God knows, something needs to be white, 'cause Zoe sure shouldn't be wearing white. She's too old and past her prime." Grandmamma added her two cents.

Zoe moved as quickly as she could towards the French doors, wanting to put as much space between herself and her grandmother. And while she stood in place for several minutes watching the landscape, she was taking deep breaths. Space was essential when she had thoughts of bludgeoning the dear old hag.

Noting annoyance, John sidled up next to Zoe and put a calming hand in the middle of her back. He gave her a small reassuring smile, she answered with an eye roll and a slight smile as if to say; Her grandmamma may be cantankerous, but she was her grandmamma and no one else's.

Glancing at Debbie, John would have to assess his current charge as perfectly clueless. Though entertaining in an earnest but goofy sort of way, when it came to her surroundings, Debbie was a complete ignoramus. During their short walk from her office to the ballroom, John counted no less than three times that she almost caused herself bodily injury. Not only did he have to watch out for the potential perpetrator, he had to watch out that she didn't inadvertently put herself in harm's way.

John's thoughts were interrupted by Debbie's ringing cell phone. After excusing herself, she answered her phone a few steps away from the group. "Who is this?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed and her lips compressed flat together. "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh." Her narrowed some more to mere pinpricks. "Now let me tell you something, you piece of –" she shouted. "Creep," she grunted as she clicked her phone off.

John raised his eyebrows. "Is everything okay, Debbie?"

"Crank call," she said, as she walked back towards the group.

"What did the person say?"

She waved her hand as if to dismiss the incident. "He said something about me taking down some pictures I posted on my blog, like I post a bazillion everyday, I'm an amateur photographer you know? He said he'd find hard copies of the pictures, yeah right, like I keep hard copies, what an idiot. Oh, he said he would make me wish I didn't move here from New York."

"Debbie, you should call the police and tell them you were threatened," Grandmamma Ruby insisted.

"Oh Miss Ruby, don't worry about it. I get crank calls all the time and just ignore them."

John cringed. This girl WAS completely clueless. She didn't pick up on the fact that the caller knew she had moved from New York just recently. And she wasn't taking his threats seriously. Walking away, John flicked his ear-bud on. "Finch," he said in a low tone, "you might want to check out Debbie's blogs or social media pages."

"Already on it John. I'll let you know what I find out."

* * *

With a soft click, the lock opened. Will's heart was pounding louder than a gong drum. He quietly stepped into the back door and headed towards the stairwell.

Ten seconds later, he reached the upstairs landing without incident, only to stop in his tracks with a muttered curse. He was such an idiot, he thought grimly. Five bedrooms opened off the upstairs hallway, but it may as well have been a hundred. There wasn't a placard anywhere to indicate which room belonged to the couple, grandma, or little Miss Shutterbug.

Furious, he didn't even consider backing out now- not when he had come this far. He had to choose a room and be damn quick about it. Because every second he stood in the hallway, he was risking discovery.

Relieved to find the first door unlocked, he slipped into the room like a dark shadow, not making a sound. Since it was still day time when the group left for the B&B, no lights had been left on and the second he shut the door behind him, darkness swallowed him whole. He leaned back against the door and waited for his eyes to adjust.

It didn't take long, and almost immediately he noticed that the sitting room windows were uncovered. If he turned on a light, he would be clearly visible to anyone who happened to be staying at the B&B across the street. He'd have to search in the dark.

Quietly stepping away from the door, he proceeded to examine the sitting room in the dark. From what little he could see, the room wasn't very large and within a few moments he found the outline of the bed and dresser, and little else. Muttering a curse, he moved to the closet and opened the door.

Not surprisingly, the inside of the closet was pitch black and he couldn't see a damn thing. Scowling, he pulled his penlight from his pocket, and flashed it around and dropped it.

As he knelt down to pick it up, he was surprised to find his eyes riveted on twin pools of blue staring right at him.  _"Intruder,"_  Buster woofed.

"Son of a bitch!" Will swore as he jerked back like a scared cat. How the hell was he supposed to know that horse of a dog was going to be in the closet?

He had to get away; he was starting to see drool dripping down from Cujo's mouth. Panicking, he tried to slam the closet door shut but the dog was out like a shot.  _Ah screw it_ , he thought as he ran before the dog took a chunk out of his behind. Muttering another oath, he didn't chance glancing behind him. He headed right out of the bedroom door and down the hall.

Will yelped and jumped, as he felt tugging at his pants. His scream was cut short by the stairs and he fell head first down the stairs. If not for his fall, it was no doubt, he would be missing some serious cheek. Scrambling up, he ran through the house to the back door, knocking the mail off of the kitchen table and throwing chairs in the dog's way, behind him, he could hear the nails clicking on the hardwoods.

Bursting through the back door he headed for his car, barely shutting the door, when Cujo's square head appeared, his deep woofs shaking the car. He finally got the car started and drove off, his heart beating in his chest as his fist beat against the steering wheel.

He had to regroup, rethink his strategy. He was starting to get desperate. She wouldn't take his calls seriously and he wasn't having any luck getting the pictures.


	5. Hi! My name is John, I'm not really an Investment Banker

* * *

**Hi! My name is John, I'm not really an Investment Banker**

Frowning, John studied the open back door through narrowed eyes. Catching Zoe's eye, he looked towards the door and looked back at her. Pulling out his gun, he motioned to Zoe to keep Miss Ruby away from the house.

Knowing that the neighborhood that Miss Ruby lived in was relatively safe, he couldn't reject the idea that this was the perpetrator coming for Debbie; not when the door stood wide open and he didn't know how it had gotten that way.

Every nerve ending in his body on alert, he quietly pushed open the door until it came to rest against the wall. Quietly stepping into the kitchen, noting the turned over chairs. He repeated the same procedure he'd used in the living room, where he noticed the pile of mail on the floor, then did the same in every bedroom and bathroom. Only when he was satisfied there was no one in the house did he finally relax.

* * *

Grandmamma Ruby could not keep the scrutiny from her eyes when she entered the kitchen. Oh John tried his best to keep an innocent look on his face although no one could with a gun in their hand.

"Darlin', I take it you're not really an investment banker," she asked aiming a shrewd gaze at John.

Recovering quickly, putting his gun away, John cleared his throat and replied evenly, "No ma'am." He then instructed, "Please have a seat, Miss Ruby." He motioned toward couch. "We need to have a serious talk; about why Zoe and I are really here."

Miss Ruby sighed and looked up to the heavens. These children, they always take things so damned seriously, she thought as she sat down next to Zoe, who proceeded to shoot her a guilty look. She almost laughed out loud. It did her old heart good to finally have her grandbaby under her roof again. It was a long time coming.

Leaving out what was necessary; John told Miss Ruby that he and Zoe were here to keep an eye on Debbie that they had information that indicated that she could be in danger.

"So, you two aren't really engaged," the old woman asked pinning Zoe with an accusing stare.

Zoe, feeling as if she committed a mortal sin, slowly shook her head. Only her grandmamma could make her feel guilty for something like this.

Miss Ruby waved her hand dismissively. "You two are shagging each other though aren't you? Those sparks aren't there just for the heck of it."

"That is none of your business!" Zoe barked as she bolted upright and stood over the woman.

"Zoe, please," John warned.

"No need to come to my rescue, John," Miss Ruby broke in. "I taught this one everything she knows." She held Zoe's glower and didn't shy away. "Sugah, everything going on with you is my business. I love you and that isn't going to change just because you think you're a big girl."

Deflated, Zoe pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Oh Grandmamma, I love you too."

John looked between the two women when he came to a realization and a grin formed on his lips. He now understood why he'd found this particular little old lady to be so confounding, while being completely drawn to her at the same time.

* * *

"Grandmamma?" Zoe whispered as she stood in front of the sleeping woman, who opened her eyes and looked up at her, smiling lovingly.

"Just resting my eyes, Sugah," she said with a yawn. "It's been a long couple of days."

"You're not kidding." Zoe mumbled as she looked towards the dining room where John and Debbie were putting away the last few things from dinner.

"Come closer, Darlin'." Grandmamma Ruby motioned. "Let me see you up close." Zoe knelt down by her grandmother, who took her face in her hands.

"Land sakes . . ." the old woman sighed. "I swear you get prettier as the years roll by, even with a few more lines on your face."

Zoe snorted at the backhanded compliment, par for the course with her Grandmamma. "You're not exactly objective . . . " Zoe whispered, lowering her eyes and shaking her head.

"Well, why don't we ask your young man?" Miss Ruby said coyly looking at John who was leaning against the wall looking on.

"I think everyone here knows what I think," John stated with tender smile. Zoe sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

"What is it sweetie?" the old woman asked, tilting her chin up.

"I'm worried about you. Living alone in this big house all by yourself."

"Nonsense. I'm not an invalid. I have Buster here," she said as she rubbed the Great Dane's head as he sat by her. "Yes, I'm older than dirt; the police are only a phone call away. I have a cleaning lady that comes in every week. The grocery store delivers if I need it. I'm fine." She grinned broadly prompting smiles from both John and Zoe. "Besides, I'm not living here forever, I have a plan" she said then placed a tender, kiss to her grand daughter's forehead.

Zoe gave her a sideways glance and asked, "What plan, Grandmamma? I know that look, when you have a plan, it always involves me somehow. So spill it you old . . ."

"Zoe . . . " John interrupted.

"John, what did I say about rescuing me? I can hold my own with this little girl," Miss Ruby replied again holding her grand daughter's gaze. "If you must know, Darlin', I bought this house for you."

Whatever Zoe was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "You what?"

"Zoe, honey, you're not getting any younger. You're starting to get little laugh lines at the corners of your eyes. Once you get those squint lines, everything starts going to hell in a hand basket. I bought this house to give to you, so you can fill it with children."

"Are you insane? There are four bedrooms upstairs including the master bedroom! And as you so eloquently put it, I'm not young anymore and I've told you time and time again that I'm not going to have children. You know this, why do you keep insisting on this farfetched dream?" Zoe fought hard to keep the panic and desperation from her voice.

"Is it really that farfetched?" Her grandmamma asked as she quickly glanced at John then back to Zoe.

"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to panic me into doing something drastic. I like those laugh lines. I think they give a person character. I certainly don't want to have children because I'm feeling over-the-hill and desperate. Grandmamma, you know what I do and that it just isn't conducive to having a family. We have talked about this before."

"Five years ago, but things change."

"This won't. This will never change." Zoe insisted, shaking her head.

"Never say never, dahlin'"


	6. Grandma's got a Gun?

* * *

**Grandma's got a Gun?**

John had volunteered to take Buster out on his nightly walk after the rather uncomfortable and intense discussion in the living room. He could see Zoe's point of view. What she did for a living certainly could lead and has in the past led to some dangerous situations and he could see why Zoe had made the decision to not have children. He had come to the same conclusion himself. As much as he would love to have a normal life with a family, it would be unfair to his would be family to throw them in the middle of this. As Harold said, they would probably both end up dead in the end.

John walked Buster back to the house. He didn't kid himself that Buster would sleep in the kitchen like he normally does. In the two days since they arrived, Buster was never too far away from Zoe. If there ever was a love-sick puppy, it was Buster. He snickered at the sight of the 120 pound dog walking in circles trying to find a comfortable spot next to Zoe on the bed.

As he had done the previous night, he headed for the car parked across the street in front of Miss Ruby's home. He rolled his window down and settled down to keep watch.

At two-fifteen his head snapped off the back of the seat. The pop of a gunshot had broken the silence of the early morning. Another shot rang out, and John was on his feet, running to Miss Ruby's home. Knowing that the front door and windows were locked, he heard shouting from behind the front door. He kicked it in. He pushed past Buster, and Debbie straight towards Zoe. "You aren't hit?" he asked, running his hands over her body examining for bullet holes.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not the one you should be worried about. . . ".

"Some dimwit broke into the house," Miss Ruby said. "I got up to go to the little girl's room and thought I heard a funny noise coming from downstairs. So I got my gun," she held up a Smith & Wesson 9mm handgun. "I'll be damned if I didn't catch some sleaze ball creeping through the kitchen. I said, 'Are you feelin' lucky Sugah?' It was quite dark, and though I couldn't get a good look at him, it didn't take much to realize he wasn't stopping."

"Grandmamma, who did you think you were? Clint Eastwood? You could have been hurt," Zoe chastised.

"Zoe, keep your knickers on, I'm too stubborn to die and as for being hurt, well, I'm no wuss."

"There isn't anyone bleeding to death on the kitchen floor, is there?" John asked.

"No," Miss Ruby said. "He was moving too fast once he saw me with my gun. He was going out the back door and I tried to aim real low so I could slow him down."

"Did you get him on the leg?"

"Hell no young man, I was aiming for his privates. Some people aim for the heart, some people like to shoot to the gut, but I always aim for the dangling doo-dads."

John cringed. "Did you get him?"

"Zoe, your young man isn't slow is he?" she asked her granddaughter with a shake of her head. Turning to John she asked slowly, "Darlin', if I had gotten him, he'd be on the floor missing his twig and berries."

John went into the kitchen and noticed the large hole in the back door and another one in the trashcan beside the door.

Debbie was now sitting at the kitchen table nibbling on a piece of cake. "She's the terminator of trash cans," she said. "Got it right in its Johnson."

Being the only male present, besides Buster, John was starting to get uncomfortable with the talk about dangling doo-dads, twig and berries, and Johnsons.

"He picked the lock, that's how he got in, that's twice in one day," John observed. John warily started to dial the police. He punched in two numbers then stopped. Dollars to donuts, Miss Ruby didn't have a license for her gun. They would have too many questions. Running his hand through his hair, he silently swore. They didn't need any attention at the moment.

Sighing, he motioned for the rest of the group to go to bed. "I'll patch the door up with some plywood I saw in the basement. That should do, until we can get a new door. It doesn't appear as though any of your neighbors heard anything otherwise the police would be here by now."

Miss Ruby shook her head. "Jim and Doreen sleep like the dead and no one at the B&B can hear anything."

Leaving John to fix the door, the rest trooped back upstairs to go back to bed.

* * *

Will didn't sleep much that morning. Nothing had gone the way he had expected, he fumed, pacing the confines of his hotel room. He shouldn't have had so much trouble finding the woman's room. How difficult could it have been? There were only five bedrooms upstairs, and he had to choose the one with Cujo in it. Not only that, it was easy enough to break into the woman's home, but who knew the crazy old bitch had a gun? Man, this girl was one lucky broad. It's not like she had a secret agent man protecting her or anything like that. Instead she had a killer dog and a crazy as batshit lady as the guard.

It wasn't over though, he told himself grimly. She might be able to evade him, but her turn was coming. Oh, yeah, he'd get her. He had to—she was the only one who had seen him running in the park that day, the only one who could place him at the scene of the murder. He wasn't, however, going to risk getting caught by trying to get into her room again.

No, there was a better way to take care of her, he decided. She was an amateur photographer, and from her blog, she didn't work inside most of the time. She had to get out, and when she did, he would be waiting for her, watching. Granted, there would be more people around, but she'd be much more accessible on the street. If he was lucky, she'd go to a park and he'd be able to figure things out from there.


	7. Fun at the Park and Strange encounters

* * *

**Fun at the Park and Strange encounters**

"Finch, have you found out anything about Debbie's blog, anything at all?"

"Well, interestingly enough, I found out that she had posted a rather blurred picture of an individual running in the park. In and of itself, it wouldn't be significant, however, the day she indicated that she had taken the picture, the body of a prostitute was found in the general vicinity of where the picture was taken. I have Detective Carter checking into the details to see if they have a suspect. In the meantime, I believe it is safe to assume that this man running through the park is a legitimate suspect."

Flicking off his ear bud, John contemplated their next move. Without knowing the identity of the threat, it was difficult to determine whether or not their planned trip to the park this afternoon would be a good idea or not. Debbie had wanted to take "engagement pictures" for Zoe and John. The poor girl was still totally clueless that John and Zoe were here for any other reason than to find a wedding location and to visit Zoe's grandmother.

* * *

Will tried to keep a safe distance as he followed Little Miss Shutterbug. He dodged other pedestrians and tried not to look as if he was following her, but she sure as hell wasn't making it easy on him. She walked at a fast clip, and to keep up, there were times he had to sprint especially when the lights turned at the next corner and a stream of zipping cars abruptly cut him off from her. He watched fascinated as not one, not two, not three, but four large black Lincoln town cars came speeding through.

_Jesus, what is it with this city and black Lincoln Town cars. Every other freakin' car was a black sedan with mirrored windows and zipping around like a bat out of hell._

Swearing, he prowled back and forth on the curb, not particularly caring that he was jostling people as he watched Debbie move farther and farther away.

"Damn it," he muttered as he geared up for another round of chicken with the damn Lincolns. Every time he even thought about stepping off the curb, the cars raced past with blaring horns.

Watching her disappear around the next corner, he swore again. He checked for the traffic, but this time, he caught a break. Ignoring the Don't Walk sign flashing, he stepped off the curb and darted across the street. All around him drivers blew their horns, but he only made a rude gesture and never bothered to look at them. He even heard someone call him a moron from one of those black Lincolns.

Nearly ten minutes later, he finally found his quarry. And it was time to plan her demise. Looking around, he spotted the perfect weapon.

* * *

As soon as she reached the park, Debbie started scouting for locations where she could take pictures of Zoe and John. She didn't buy their little act. There is no way those two only got engaged two days ago in a whirlwind romance they claimed. Although why they would try to hide the length of their relationship didn't make sense. Zoe and John were like halves of the same coin. There never seemed to be a need for words between them. All it seemed to take was a quirk of a brow or lip, a bowed head, or the blink of an eye. Debbie realized that theirs was a rock-solid relationship. There was genuine affection there, Debbie decided.

Zoe and John showed an outward facade that was both smooth and offhandedly standoffish. However, on closer contemplation, there was a warm familiarity between them, a throbbing vitality.

Debbie looked up and saw that the subjects of her thoughts had arrived. And of course Miss Ruby was with them. Zoe must have lectured John to within an inch of his life on the southern gentleman's responsibilities. She could see John helping Miss Ruby from the car and offering her his arm as they crossed the street to the park. Gentlemen always escorted the elderly ladies across the street, although she wouldn't admit to Miss Ruby's face that she considered her elderly. She might get a twisted ear or a good tongue lashing.

Zoe was wearing a killer red dress that hugged every hill and valley of her slender figure and probably cost more than the entire contents of her equipment bag. Her hair was flowing down her back swept softly away from her face. The hem of her dress ending at just above the knee emphasized the strength of her lean legs. The matching red stilettos making her appear much taller than she really was. Debbie sighed, one day she would love to look even half as elegant and regal as Zoe did.

On the street bordering the park, cars zoomed along less than a few feet from where she had set up. Caught up in the lighting and the arrival of her subjects, she hardly paid attention to the traffic. When a horn blared a few blocks away, she didn't even look up . . . until more horns blared, drivers showing their irritation. Startled, Debbie straightened and looked down the block, only to gasp in horror as a black Yaris with a silver racing stripe came barreling down the street, wildly changing lanes. Tires screeched as drivers slammed on their brakes, trying to avoid an accident, but the driver of the Yaris never slowed down. The speed barely fluctuated as it finally jumped the curb and raced through the park. All around her people screamed and began to run away from the speeding Yaris, and Debbie caught it all in a series of lightning-quick shots.

All of a sudden, Debbie caught a flash of red then felt a thud as she and whatever force was watching over her rolled head over tea kettle down the hill towards the pond. Luckily, her momentum stopped right before she hit the pond. The flash of red however, ended up in the pond.

* * *

Normally, when her gut told her to do something she did it, this however, was one of the rare times that she had wished she had ignored it. Drenched red dress clinging to her body like a second skin, she would have made a seductive sight, were it not for the presence of lily pads, leaves, and pond scum tangled through her once immaculate hair. Making as dignified an exit from the pond as possible under the circumstances, Zoe shooed John's helping hand away with a contemptuous glare as she slowly pushed soaking wet clumps of hair and lily pads off her face.

John tried but failed to stifle a teeth baring grin as he stood next to an unharmed and completely dry Debbie. The driver of the Yaris was already zip-tied and on the ground waiting for the police to show up.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, Miss Morgan . . . " Debbie started, but was interrupted by a raised hand palm facing out as Zoe walked by. "I can't believe this idiot tried to run me down with a car. Are you okay Miss Morgan?" Debbie continued to chatter as she was wringing her hands. Zoe just ignored her as she continued towards her grandmother so she could take the keys to the car to drive home, leaving John, Debbie and Grandmamma Ruby to talk to the police.

"Sucks scummy pond water doesn't it, Sugah?" Miss Ruby cackled from her perch up on the hill. Were it not for the fact that she was her beloved Grandmamma, Zoe would have easily decked her. Of course knowing Grandmamma Ruby, she would have decked her right back.

Zoe ran a hand down each arm and through her hair again and squeezed out as much water and pond scum as she could. As she walked past John, she placed a wet hand on his chest and shoved him aside, "Not one word . . . " and walked up the hill with as much dignity as she could in soaking wet stilettos that squished with each step.

"Keys," Zoe growled at her Grandmamma as she reached the top of the hill.

"Your better half has them Darlin'," Grandmamma answered sweet as pie, not bothering to hide her mirth.

Reaching her hand behind her without bothering to turn around, Zoe flicked her fingers in the universal sign for "give me the damn keys," and felt them immediately in her palm.

Ignoring the snickers coming from behind her, Zoe pulled her shoulders back and made her way back to their car, which was currently blocked in by two Lincoln town cars with quite an eclectic trio standing in front of them.

The thin balding man was fretting as he walked back and forth across the pavement, stuttering something about a data annex that had been broken into, and that for sure this was going to ruin his date with Edna, some lady with a double chin that worked in accounting. The tall and leggy brunette in a miniskirt with the telling bulge of a firearm under her suit coat standing next to him called him a moron and told him to shut up.

Shaking her head, Zoe stuck to her side of the street and tried to maintain a low profile, not wanting to attract the attention of some rather odd characters in this town. Leave it to Grandmamma to find the oddest place to live.

"Miss, are you alright?" a concerned and distinctly Flemish voice asked. Too late, Zoe had caught the attention of the odd triad by the cars.

Waving the concern off with a hand, she claimed, "Just part of a day's work."

The brunette's head whipped up and caught Zoe's gaze and startled her for a minute. The hard ice blue gaze stroked a familiar chord in Zoe. The brunette's eyes flicked to Zoe's soaked appearance, then down to her shoes - - and her eyebrows rose in appreciation and dismay. "Oh honey, been there, done that. Are those Louboutins?"

Glancing back at Zoe's shoes, she nodded, slightly in that silent kind of understanding that women had sometimes, she said, "Sister, you better find the guy responsible and make him pay," drawing out the "a" so that it sounded like "paaaaaaaay."


	8. Zoe cooks Fried Chicken?

* * *

**Zoe cooks Fried Chicken?**

Though Zoe was never raised in the south, she did have a Grandmamma that was a true Southern lady. One thing her grandmamma had taught her was that when things got a little crazy and she needed to think things through, Zoe did the one thing that calmed her down . . . cook. If she were in her apartment in New York, she wouldn't even think about the kitchen when she was stressed, choosing instead to go for a run if needed. She was hardly ever at home long enough to cook anyway. But because Grandmamma had a fully stocked kitchen, Zoe took advantage.

On any normal day, she would be dressed in her usual armor of a stylish yet professional dress or suit, phone in hand, her thumbs tap-tap-tapping away. But today, for that matter, the last several days weren't normal days, her usual armor hadn't prevented her from feeling ten years old again or ending up marinating in pond scum. And she was still upset about the loss of the Louboutins. Harold was going to have to dip into more than just petty cash to reimburse her.

It had been an hour since she had come back home soaking wet and reeking of pond. She had taken a relaxing shower then a bath to wash away the stench and grime, without a care in the world that she had left John and Grandmamma Ruby stranded at the park to take care of the police. These last few days had been hell on her nerves. She was looking forward to some relaxation.

"What the hell . . . is that?" John asked walking into the kitchen staring at the weapon Zoe had in her hand.

"It's called a cast iron skillet, John," Zoe stated the obvious, knowing John wouldn't believe her if she told him.

"I can see that, I want to know what you are going to do with it," John asked, his eyes darting around as if assessing the presence of a threat. Seeing none but the skillet, he turned his attention back to her.

"What does one do with a skillet, John?" Zoe asked, actually enjoying his momentary confusion, waiting for the appearance of incredulity.

"Cook would be the obvious answer." John sounded skeptical, and she didn't blame him, besides opening a package of pre-prepared food from a meal delivery service, he had never seen Zoe do anything domestic.

"There you go," Zoe said as if that would explain everything, laying the cast iron skillet on top of the stove.

"You don't cook."

"Don't I?" she asked, raising an eyebrow she regarded him, folding her arms across her chest.

John knew that look. The look said, "You keep underestimating me boy, and I'll drop-kick your ass." It was the same look she gave him when they played poker and he lost damn near every round.

He pointed out the sliding glass doors towards the garden. "Debbie was going to help Miss Ruby with her garden. I thought I'd come and check and see how you were," John said hiding a smile as he took at seat at a barstool at the kitchen island where breakfast was served in the mornings.

She bit her lip to keep from sharing the hilarity of what had happened at the park. "How did you guys get back?" Smirking, she filled a mug with coffee from the carafe on the island and set it down in front of John.

"Taxi," John replied distractedly as he watched Debbie pulling weeds with Miss Ruby standing behind her arms at her hips, looking very much like a CO. John inwardly smiled; he had never had a CO quite as tough as Miss Ruby.

"It wasn't a black Lincoln Town Car was it?" She asked sarcastically.

John smiled, still keeping eyes on Debbie and Miss Ruby, though he really didn't need to anymore. They had moved towards the other flower bed and started to weed that as well. He had noticed the rather unusually large fleet of black Lincolns in this town.

"How did you get KP duty?"

"Grandmamma told me to . . ." Unwillingly, one side of her mouth slid up in a half-smile. She could never say no to Grandmamma. It just wasn't done. Relaxing imperceptibly, she began the preparations for dinner.

"You do everything Miss Ruby tells you to do?" Glancing at her briefly, he asked, quirking an eyebrow and folding his arms.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "You've met her, what do you think," then reached into the cupboards to pull out bowls and set them on the island. "When I was little, I used to spend a lot of holidays with Grandmamma. There was really no point in staying home... Daddy was always so busy... always working and mom, well she had other things on her mind especially after Dad got sent away. So, I'd go to Grandmamma's, wherever she was at the time."

John was listening with half an ear while Zoe put flour and some salt and pepper in one bowl and milk in another. "Grandmamma was so much fun, eccentric and just plain crazy, those Southern ladies you know," Zoe laughed.

Her carefree laugh was what pulled John's attention away from Debbie and Miss Ruby. Zoe's repetitive action of dunking the chicken first in flour, then in the milk, once, twice then putting into the hot pan was nearly hypnotic.

She was wearing jeans and a tank top that bared her shoulders. A loosely tied apron with bumble bee designs was protecting her clothing, but made her look indescribably adorable. Her hair was in a haphazard ponytail and her feet were bare. John noticed that her toenails were painted a deep red and immediately felt a jolt in his nether regions at the discovery.

 _Stop it,_  He thought raising his eyes to the ceiling.  _They are just digits. There is nothing sexy about toes._ He thought again, failing miserably in convincing himself.

John tilted his head, captivated by her careful, deliberate movements, how wholly engrossed she was by her task. Pushing errant strands of brown locks behind an ear as she was frying the chicken, Zoe caught his eye and gave him a smile. Inadvertently, Zoe had peeled off another layer of her armor and let a side of her he'd never seen out. He marveled at the vision of domesticity, and found it rather tempting.

John slipped up behind Zoe as she was carefully plating the chicken. Keeping his eyes glued to the back yard so he could still make sure Debbie and Miss Ruby were in sight.

Zoe jumped and let out an exasperated gasp, "John!" she hadn't even heard him move towards her. She froze as he put his arms around her. "What are you doing?" Feeling a bit squirmy since her Grandmamma was right outside the back door.

His lips brushed the side of her neck, barely touching. Just a brush of skin, but it was all it took for every cell in her body to be on alert. "Kissing you," he murmured against the pulse at her neck, "what does it look like?"

Zoe could feel the heat from his body, smell the musky John scent she knew so well. She didn't jump this time when he lightly kissed her shoulder. "Why?"

John's breath was warm on her skin, the back of his hand slowly trailing down her upper arm. Her question nearly made him chuckle; it did make him grin. "Because I can't resist a woman with a skillet in her hand," he said as he nipped at her earlobe and grazed the line of her jaw.

"Is that what took you so long to buy me that drink? I should have asked you to come see my skillet instead?" She asked impishly as she laid her hands over his wandering ones, as if to guide them to where she wanted them. Both of them keeping an eye out the window to make sure Grandmamma and Debbie were still unaware of the heat in the kitchen. Acutely conscious of the placement of his hands, a small smile blossomed on her lips.

"That might have helped," he replied as he pushed her forward into the counter, wedging one of his legs between hers and forcing them apart as one of his hands skillfully made it's way under her tank top, settling on her abdomen where he stroked the baby soft skin there; the other moved up to tenderly cup her breast with his right hand, causing her to gasp.

There was a commotion by the back porch that led John to instinctively tighten his arms around her in a protective gesture, as if he could protect her from her Grandmamma's probing gaze if she were to come in. Instinctively, she wrapped her own arms over his, waiting in silence until the commotion died down and no Grandmamma in sight. "I'm never going to hear the end of this if she walks in."

He ran his thumb across her breast and he could feel her reaction immediately through the material of her bra and tank top. Encouraged, he brought his other hand around and repeated the process on the other breast, again extracting a positive response.

His hands were gallingly tender, his touch irritatingly wonderful. With her breathing unsteady, she turned to look at him, her doe brown eyes flashing at him as she pushed her bottom into him, his eyes briefly shut and he groaned softly.

A self-satisfied smirk greeted him as he opened his eyes, proud of herself for turning the tables on him, if only for a little bit. "I'm glad you liked my skillet . . ." Over her shoulder, her eyes tracked down his body then up again before she quipped, "Is that your phone in your pocket John, or are you glad to see me?"

"That is definitely not my phone," he responded coolly, if a bit breathless. He remembered where his hands rested. He leaned in to whisper to her as he slid one hand under the silky fabric of her bra. "What about you Zoe? Happy to see me?" he breathed into her ear as she pushed her breast further into his hand.

"Ummmm, John . . ." she responded as he switched to the other breast; nosing her hair aside to expose the back of her neck. She held her breath as she felt his lips touch the back of her neck again. He lay on her neck, kisses so soft they felt light as air further tantalizing her already hyper-sensitive skin.

She felt his smile as he responded, "Zoe . . ."

"We should really stop . . . "

Resting his forehead on the top of her head, he sighed his agreement. This had gotten a little out of hand. He never realized seeing her in such a domestic setting would set off his libido. Quietly he whispered, "Maybe we should . . . ah . . . plan to retire early?"

Turning around and kissing him softly, she responded, "Let's do that. . . " Neither one of them made a move to step away from each other.

"Are you two done groping each other yet? Saints alive . . . you have a room upstairs you know. You can start on those great-grandbabies . . ."

Grandmamma's words had the same effect as a bucket of cold water as both John and Zoe jumped away from each other.


	9. Epilogue

* * *

**She sees! Hallelujah!**

"Well, if I do say so myself, sugah, I taught you well didn't I?" Gradmamma Ruby asked, without even a hint of humility. "That was some fine fried chicken you made us for dinner."

Zoe turned from the sink where she was finishing up the dinner dishes. "Indeed you did, you old bat," she replied lovingly.

Smiling sadly at her grandmother, she sat at the kitchen table, "We're leaving tomorrow."

"It'll be alright, dahlin'. I'll be fine," the old woman assured with confidence. Grandmamma Ruby poured herself a cup of coffee then joined Zoe at the table. She placed her hand over her granddaughter's, gave it a gentle squeeze and with a compassionate smile added, "Don't you worry about me, I'll manage this monstrosity on my own."

"I'm sorry I dis . . ," Zoe started, but was interrupted by another squeeze to her hand.

"Zoe Heloise Morgan, don't you dare say that word. You have never been or ever will be a disappointment to me. Why would you ever think that?"

"Because of what you want me to do with this house once you're gone."

"Oh Zoe girl, you were always the hardest on yourself. Thinking you had to make everyone happy. You hide that well you know, from everyone but me. You take everything too damn seriously. I have always wanted what was best for you, dear. If that means you're never going to have children or get married, well so be it. Am I disappointed? Of course not. Like I said, you could never disappoint me."

"Oh, Grandmamma, you're good for my ego. . . " Zoe said, glad that her grandmother was finally seeing her point of view.

"When you first arrived a few days ago, I would certainly have agreed that you deciding to not have children would have disappointed me. I didn't want my grandbaby to end up alone and in the last few years, I was honestly concerned because I didn't see that spark, that fire in you. But since then, I've changed my view."

Giving her grandmother a curious look, Zoe asked, "What changed?"

"Why seeing you with John, of course."

"Go on . . ." Zoe encouraged her grandmother to continue, almost in shock that this crazy old bat who was set in her ways was starting to see what Zoe and John had realized just a few short months ago.

Ruby sighed, "I always thought that if you just got married, had a brat or two that that fire would come back. It would give you something to fight for, something to look forward to. But I see now that it is John that brought that fire back. You and John have passion. A passion for each other and a passion for whatever your life is with him. It may be unconventional and you may not display it blatantly, but I see it. I see it in every glance you exchange, every touch, and every thought. I'm not worried about you anymore; that fire is back with a vengeance."

"Well hallelujah Grandmamma, you can finally see!" Zoe exclaimed, raising her arms in supplication.

"Don't you think I can't still take you over my knee, smart-ass," Grandmamma Ruby threatened and added, "I helped bring you into this world; I can sure as hell take you out."

* * *

John stepped out onto the deck to find Zoe sitting on the porch swing, propelling it gently to and fro with one foot as she stared off into space. It was late; Debbie and Miss Ruby had retired for the evening. He smiled, taking a moment to drink in all that was right with his world before approaching the swing. Little did he know how it could change in an instant.

"Any room for me?" he asked softly.

Zoe nodded, motioning for him sit down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

John turned his head to press a kiss to Zoe's temple then uttered into her hair, "What's going on in that brain of yours ..."

"Nothing . . ." she remarked. "Everything . . . ."

He chuffed then stated, "Well that clears it up."

"Just thinking about what my grandmother said," she responded.

"Well... you know... she's said quite a few things... mind narrowing it down for me?"

Zoe straightened in her seat, met John's eyes and stated, "What she said about filling this house with children."

Blinking away from the intensity of her gaze he asked, "You want kids?"

"No, of course not," she said. Then added, "Yes . . . hell, I don't know."

"Okay, glad we have that all cleared up," John retorted. Although he often dreamed of having children one day, he had always believed that it was just that, a dream; nothing that he should or could hope for. He knew Zoe felt the same way, yet there was a part of her that obviously considered it at some point.

"It would be insane right?" she asked. "Bringing a child into our world, that would just be sheer lunacy, don't you agree?" Zoe's question clearly begged for the affirmative, yet her eyes said something else.

"Yes, Zoe, given our current lifestyles and profession, it wouldn't be fair to bring a child into this chaos . . ." John started.

"But? I hear a but coming." Zoe said eyeing John.

John nodded, "But, it's not to say that eventually . . . "

Zoe nodded, "Yeah, eventually . . . "

Her gaze wandered toward Buster who was rooting around in the corner of the back yard with something red in his mouth. "What the hell?" Zoe asked straining harder to see what he was doing. Realizing what it was, she burst out laughing. "That little bugger, that's where all my underwear went."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Yeah, yeah, where's J/Z, right? They'll be in the next chapter! Stay tuned . . .


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